


Interlude: With Hook and Yarn

by diaphanous87



Series: The Archer [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crochet, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Gen, MGiT, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Inquisitor OC, yarncraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Brighid requests something to keep her hands busy when not gathering healing herbs or shooting shit. It would be nice to create instead of destroy. Josephine Montilyet makes it happen, like the awesome person that she is.An Interlude: What happens when Brighid is left behind.





	Interlude: With Hook and Yarn

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Dragon Age. 
> 
> Brighid's crocheted scarf came out of nowhere. I wanted to explain how she came into the supplies to make it.

** Interlude: With Hook and Yarn **

\---

This sitting idle thing was grating on her nerves. Brighid twitched her eyebrows down and jumped up out her seat in the tavern. She waved away Varric’s concerned glance up and sauntered out into the cold. The Chant of Light echoed out through the village of Haven in what seemed like a thousand different voices and rhythms. She passed by a group of lay sisters on her way to the Chantry, waving at Sister Hellin who smiled at her. Gently, she opened the door of the Chantry just enough to slip through.

The elf kept her head down and her torso slumped to look like a servant on an errand. She escaped Vivienne’s attention with ease thusly. Brighid knew that without her distinctive and uncaring confidence that she looked like all the other servants in Vivienne’s eyes. It helped also that she was dressed in a rough spun wool tunic and breeches with a nondescript cloak. It was so easy to bypass her because to the enchanter all elves looked the same because they were lesser and so weren’t worth closer scrutiny or remembrance. Damned woman even mixed her up with Sera nevermind that they were like night and day in their coloring and demeanor.

But Brighid wasn’t here for Madame De Fancypants. Instead she was here for Lady Montilyet because if anyone could procure what she wanted it was the kind lady of Antiva. She paused before the lady’s office door within the Chantry and shook her shoulders. And like that, her servile demeanor slid away like water off a duck’s back. Spine straight as her arrows, shoulders squared off, eyes up and unafraid. Her lips quirked in her usual almost smile of amusement and she became Brighid McCullough of Lake Luthias, hunter, survivor, archer of excellent skill. And to her sharp hearing, she didn’t hear any visitors beyond the door in front of her.

Knocking on the solid oak door, Brighid heard Lady Montilyet call out to her visitor. She entered and made immediate eye contact with the Ambassador. She sketched a quick bow. “My lady, good afternoon,” she drawled as she stepped further into the room. She closed the door behind her, nodding a hello at Minaeve. “Hunter Brighid McCullough with a request.”

Finally recognition lit up Lady Montilyet’s eyes. “Greetings, Hunter McCullough!” She chirped cheerfully. She motioned for her to come closer. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” Brighid answered as she came to a halt in front of the lady’s desk. “And how are you faring this afternoon?”

“I too am well. How may I help you?” The skritch of Lady Montilyet’s quill never stopped except to be re-inked. But her voice and face were friendly as befitting an ambassador. Her dark eyes flicked between looking at Brighid and her paperwork. “Please sit,” she said, waving at the chair on the other side of her desk.

“I was wondering if you knew of anyone could procure a particular set of items.” Brighid said, sitting as invited. “Idle hands are not becoming and even I can only do so much herb foraging and hunting.”

The ambassador’s quill paused. She looked up and blinked. “And there are items that might help?” She asked, quirking her eyebrows up.

Brighid nodded. “I attempted to ask Seggritt about the tool I needed first but he had no idea what I was talking about,” she replied. The corners of her lips turned down and her eye twitched. “He was not… helpful.”

Lady Montilyet made a thoughtful sound. Her quill found itself put aside for the moment. “And what items are you seeking to combat your… idleness?”

The elf pursed her lips. “Yarn first,” she replied. “In any color about this big around?” She pinched her fingers in the air to indicate the size yarn she wanted. “I am hoping to provide cold weather accessories like hats, mittens, and scarves to those within Haven.” She tilted her head when she saw the lady’s excited face.

“Knitting?” Lady Montilyet asked, leaning forward with gleaming dark eyes. “Such items are very much in demand here.”

“Not quite knitting,” Brighid said with a smile on her face. “It’s something similar but does not use a pair of needles.” She leaned back into the chair. “It’s a slim tool with a hook at the end. Smooth as to not catch on the yarn. It would fit in the palm of my hand though it can be bigger, a different sized hook for different sized yarn. And I would use it to work the yarn into various items like the ones I mentioned before and more. My mother taught me as well as knitting but I prefer a hook in my hand.”

“A hook to work yarn…” Lady Montilyet hummed, tapping elegant fingers on her full bottom lip as she stared at the wall.

“A crochet hook,” Minaeve spoke up from her research desk in the far corner of the office. “That’s is what it is called. Size 8 as needed by your requested yarn size.” And as abruptly as she entered the conversation, she left it to glare back down at her work table covered in the parchment containing her notes.

“Oh!” The ambassador clapped her hands. “Crochet can be used for more than lace?” She wondered aloud.

Brighid looked amused. “Yes,” she drawled. “So is there any way I could get a set of hooks shipped here along with yarn?”

“Yes, of course!” The lady responded cheerily. “And you are willing to make mittens and scarves for our people?”

“Of course. My boredom will be the Inquisition’s gain.” She shrugged. “I’d be more than happy to hook up some things to be handed out. Little things that do not take much time as compared to say… a blanket. I could do blankets but that would take much longer.”

“I see your point.” All of the sudden the lady’s sharp gaze focused on Brighid. “The list of your set of skills continues to grow, Hunter McCullough.” She smiled brightly. “We are fortunate indeed that Mother Giselle convinced you to come.”

“Convinced… right.” Brighid smiled helplessly. “And I suppose knitting needles as well in the same matching size as my hooks. Just in case.” She pulled a pouch of coins from her pocket and set it on the desk between them. “I don’t know if this will cover the cost,” she said, “but what ever difference there is, I will pay it with my next pay from the Inquisition. I know that you are trustworthy, my lady, and that if anyone could get the best prices, it would be you.”

“I am honored by your trust,” Lady Montilyet said in a grave tone, as if she knew how much it cost the former hermit of a hunter to admit such a thing. “And I will make sure that any excess that is not covered by the coin you have given will be deducted in the appropriate amount and properly accounted for in your next pay.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Brighid said.

“You are welcome. Now!” She clapped her hands, excitement lighting up her lovely face. “You said any color yarn?”

“I… I did say that. Any color though I am partial to bright. Which might not be appropriate for any scout that is looking for a scarf or set of mittens but might cheer up the refugees and pilgrims that come to Haven. I leave it at your discretion.”

“And a fine pair of little scissors and sewing needles,” Minaeve called out. “To weave in the ends. Might as well go all in.”

“Go back to your research,” Brighid grumbled good-naturedly. The elf researcher just laughed at her.

“Excellent. I shall take care of all of this. Thank you for your contributions, Hunter McCullough,” Lady Montilyet giggled. “So what do you think of…”

\---

Children streamed past Brighid, waving their hands covered in bright mittens and screaming in play. The elf laughed softly to herself from her seat next to Varric’s fire. At her feet was a collection of brightly dyed yarns wound into center-pull balls contained in a basket. Between her knees was one such ball dyed the color of fresh spring leaves and another on her lap as well that was the color of golden sunshine. And her hands were filled with hook, yarn and scarf end.

“Hey,” Varric sauntered over from where he had been talking to one of his people. “Looking good there.” He gestured at the striping scarf, alternating between green and gold. “Never would have taken you to be so domestic. Thought you preferred living in trees, shooting shit, and you know, being a wild hermit.”

“You make me sound like a nose picking, tree-dwelling lunatic,” Brighid said, her voice as dry as the Western Approach. Her hook worked at speed and yarn became more than just colored lengths of string. Without missing a beat, she switched colors to start the next stripe.

“Would I say that?” Varric asked with a laugh in his deep voice. He sat next to her, puffing on a pipe.

“You’d probably be more eloquent than that, I suppose.”

“So who’s getting that scarf?” The dwarf looked at the piece. “It’s fancier than the others you made. They were all one color and a simple stitch?”

Brighid paused, hooked poised to pull the next loop in the pattern inside her head. “That’s right,” she said slowly, obviously surprised that he spotted such a difference as stitch type. “This is a star stitch in alternating green and gold. It’s not the best or perfect but it is sturdy. The other scarves that I made for the refugees was a simple double crochet stitch repeated until the scarf was done. That was a simple pattern, doesn’t require as much planning as this one.” She cocked her head to look at him. “Why? Did you want one?”

Varric blew out a puff of sweet smelling smoke from his pipe. “Nah, Grumbles. I’m good for now. It’s really nice though. Is it for Shiny?” A sly look entered his eyes.

“Seriously, that is the worst nickname,” she deflected coolly. She didn’t deign to answer the question. Her hook began moving again. “And I would like to get this one done before my next batch of mittens.”

“Sure, sure. Don’t let me stop you.”

\---

Brighid wove in the last yarn end, snipping off the little bit still sticking out. She shove the scissors into its leather sheath and tossed them into her yarn basket. She stuck the needle in her pincushion. She then folded the finished scarf and ran out of the tavern. Flissa called out that she would keep an eye on her supplies.

Alex was about to leave for the Temple without her and she wanted to give him his gift. Brighid wanted to see a smile on his grumpy face. Ever since Redcliffe and literally having to drag his brothers into Haven with the other templar refugees, the Herald had been on edge and snappish.

She didn’t know why she wanted Alexander Trevelyan to smile. She didn’t want to put words to her feelings. What a foolish thing. She was a nobody elf who shot well and he… he was a lord’s son and de facto leader of this Inquisition even if he did not hold the title of Inquisitor. He was the Herald of Andraste, for pity’s sake! But she could offer what comfort she could: a quiet spot, a bit of warmth, companionship, and a listening ear.

Brighid wanted Alex to be happy even if only for a moment.

\---

** END OF INTERLUDE **

Star Stitch Crochet tutorial:   
http://www.mooglyblog.com/star-stitch-marguerite-stitch/


End file.
